


Slipping Through My Fingers

by Sokkas_First_Fangirl



Series: I Lay My Life Before You [15]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alpha Brian, Alpha Jim Hutton, Alpha Roger Taylor (Queen), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Arguing, Beta John Deacon, Bonding, Complicated Relationships, Dysfunctional Family, Family, Family Drama, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mother-Son Relationship, Omega Freddie Mercury, Omega Verse, Pack Dynamics, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Planning, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2020-11-08 06:10:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20830682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sokkas_First_Fangirl/pseuds/Sokkas_First_Fangirl
Summary: Jim and Freddie are finally engaged and it's time to begin planning the wedding. Too bad Freddie and Jer have very different ideas on how it should go.Planning a wedding is hard enough. Planning a wedding with your traditional, conservative mother? Total nightmare.Or: Jer and Freddie have their major differences, but this may just help heal old wounds after all.





	1. Slipping Through My Fingers

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say, I got curious about Jer ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ She's hard to write, but at least I'm not attempting Bomi's POV.
> 
> So here we go; Jimercury wedding planning (and some incoming flashbacks of the disastrous attempt of planning Freddie and Dazmen's aborted wedding.)

**London England, 1982** **   
** ** _“Slipping through my fingers all the time, I try to capture every minute. The feeling in it, slipping through my fingers all the time. Do I really see what's in her mind? Each time I think I'm close to knowing, she keeps on growing. Slipping through my fingers all the time.” -Slipping Through My Fingers, _ ** **ABBA**

His parents almost seemed  _ baffled.  _ Bomi kept blinking at the diamond ring, at the bond mark, like he expected them to vanish if he looked away. Jer had her hands pressed over her mouth, eyes wide. 

As per usual, it was a little awkward. But Freddie held onto Jim’s hand as they told the story of how Jim had proposed last night, and  _ yes  _ they were bonded now, most people did that when they were engaged these days, please calm down, Papa.

Luckily, Bomi approved of Jim, he always had. He soon stopped grumbling and instead started asking questions about the impending wedding. They’d barely been engaged for twenty-four hours, so it wasn’t like they had any solid ideas yet. At most, they’d wondered about combining Catholic and Zoroastrian traditions somehow.

At that, Jer’s eyes lit up.

“Oh, I’ll help you, darling!” she told Freddie brightly.

His smile stiffened.

That was  _ exactly  _ what he was afraid of.

His parents had improved. His mother had improved. But if there was one thing he was sure of, it was this: he and Jer would have  _ very  _ different ideas about how this wedding should go. 

But he didn’t have the heart to just say “No,” here and now, not when she looked so excited. So he managed to keep smiling, and nodded.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was a different story when they got into the car.

“I can’t work with her, darling,” he told Jim. “She’ll drive me crazy. She’ll want it all to be traditional, she’ll want it her way, she won’t  _ listen  _ to me!”

“Maybe she will listen,” Jim said, patting his hand. “It’s  _ our  _ wedding, honey. You’re not seventeen anymore, just put your foot down.”

It wasn’t that easy. Freddie could put his foot down all he wanted, but he knew there was a high chance Jer would speak over him. He could already hear the nagging.

Maybe that wasn’t fair. Maybe she  _ would  _ listen to him. Maybe she’d support whatever decisions he made. Jim was right, it was  _ his  _ wedding, he should be allowed to do what he wanted, wear what he wanted. He just had to put his foot down.

But he wouldn’t hold his breath.

(He was already wondering how to keep her away from the bachelor party.)

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Our baby’s finally getting married!” Jer cried, beaming at her husband. “Oh, Bomi, he looked so happy!”

“He did,” Bomi said with an approving nod. “Jim will take care of him.”

“There’s so much to plan,” she mused. If she knew her son at all, she knew he’d want something beautiful. Bright colours, flowers, the perfect location. Well, he was her son, he deserved the best of the best. 

Jim hadn’t been what she’d expected for Freddie. As Freddie grew, she’d had happy daydreams about finding him the perfect Alpha: Dazmen, who had been handsome, strong and wealthy, seemed like the perfect match at the time. Twenty-three had been a good age to Freddie’s seventeen, he’d had a promising career ahead of him; the Yazadis were friends of the family, it had seemed like the perfect solution. Here was someone who could provide for her child, keep him safe and look after him, and provide him with children. Plenty of Omegas married young; many of her friends joked that she’d waited a long time to find Freddie a husband. He needed to settle down, to stop being so wild. There was honour in being a parent, surely he knew that?

But Freddie had other ideas. He ran.

It had taken her a long time to come to terms with the fact that Dazmen  _ hadn’t  _ been the perfect solution. When he’d mentioned fixing Freddie’s teeth, she’d admittedly wanted to slap him. But it wasn’t just that. What was wealth, what was strength, what good was luxury, when it caused her son to hate her, to vanish for ten years? 

_ “I’d have ended up dead one way or another, I promise you that!”  _ Freddie had yelled back in 1974, and those words had been stuck in her head for  _ weeks. Years. _

Trying to coax Freddie into discussing wedding details last time had been impossible; he’d sat across from her, scowling and refusing to respond. Seventeen, tiny, stubborn and defiant.

“I’m not marrying him, Mama,” he’d stated firmly, again and again. Jer had brushed it off, certain he’d come around. It was just natural Omega modesty shining through, she’d convinced herself. Freddie would change his mind and realise they’d found him a good match.

But he hadn’t changed his mind. He’d run away from them, from  _ her.  _ She’d woken up one morning and her baby was  _ gone,  _ vanished in the night,  only leaving a note behind. Sometimes it felt like he’d never really stopped running; she couldn’t quite keep up. She couldn’t understand what went on in that child’s head. 

This time, Jer told herself, it would be different. This time Freddie was in love, this time he’d accepted Jim’s proposal happily. It was, she thought, the perfect opportunity to bond with her son, to close some of that distance she still felt sometimes. He deserved the best wedding possible, and Jer was determined to help with that. 

She wondered if there was anywhere nearby to find a veil; Freddie would look stunning in traditional clothing, though she had no idea how she’d convince him of that fact.


	2. Sit Still, Look Pretty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jer and Freddie clash over the guest list...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes a Dazmen flashback! Sassy teenage Freddie has arrived! After that, more arguing...

**February, Stone Town Zanzibar, 1964** **  
** ** _“I know the other girlies wanna wear expensive things, like diamond rings. But I don't wanna be the puppet that you're playing on a string, this queen don't need a king. Oh, I don't know what you've been told, but this gal right here's gonna rule the world. Yeah, that is where I'm gonna be, because I wanna be. No, I don't wanna sit still, look pretty.” -Sit Still, Look Pretty, _ ** **Daya**

It was the third day of Dazmen’s visit and Freddie remained frosty. He was already there when Freddie got up in the morning; Jer had come bustling into his bedroom, telling him to make sure he was fully dressed before he left his room. "Dress nicely!" she said.

Freddie made a point of putting on his paint-stained jeans, so old and worn they were tearing at the knee. He still wore the tank top he’d slept in, so loose it slipped off one shoulder. He didn’t bother brushing his hair or putting shoes on.

Sure enough, Dazmen looked shocked. He was a handsome man, Freddie would give him that much at least; he was at least six feet tall with thick black hair and a strong jaw; he was broad shouldered, with an air of lazy confidence. As far as Freddie could see that was all he had going for him. He expected Freddie to smile and simper at him; he’d bluntly said he’d fix Freddie’s teeth if he had his way.

Freddie was determined that Dazmen wouldn’t get his way.

“What?” Freddie asked, arms folded.

“Good morning, Farrokh,” Dazmen said; the more he took in what Freddie was wearing, the more shocked he seemed. “You, uh, you look...I’m sorry, I must have woken you.” Bomi looked furious, Jer looked embarrassed. Freddie caught Kashmira’s eye, and his little sister grinned at him.

Bomi cleared his throat and gestured to the embroidered cushion by the sofa. Smiling sweetly, Freddie sat on the sofa. Dazmen’s eyes went so wide they were in danger of falling out.

_ “Farrokh!” _Bomi hissed, mortified. Freddie ignored him.

“You wanted to see me?” Freddie asked Dazmen, keeping his voice flat and uninterested.

“Ah, yes, I…” Dazmen shook his head, before shooting Freddie a smile. He looked at Bomi questioningly; Bomi nodded and Dazmen joined Freddie on the sofa, holding a small black box in his hands. “This is for you, Farrokh. An engagement gift. I meant to give it to you yesterday, but…”

“But you insulted me,” Freddie said sweetly. Dazmen went red, but Kashmira giggled. 

“I...apologise if you feel I insulted you,” Dazmen said. He held the box out. “I’d like to make amends, sweetheart.”

Freddie raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, (was that meant to be an _apology?_) but he took the box. Inside was a necklace; a thick chain of silver, shot through with tiny amethysts and diamonds. A much larger hexagon-shaped amethyst pendant, nearly the size of his fist, hung from the chain, surrounded by a border of small diamonds and yet more amethysts. It felt heavy just lying there in his palm; he was sure it’d give him a pain in the neck wearing it for more than a few minutes.

“Oh, how lovely!” Jer gasped.

Freddie wasn’t impressed. It was clearly expensive, but it wasn’t his taste at all. He liked beautiful things, he liked jewellery...But he normally just wore a few bangles, a simple chain or two. He hadn’t even gotten his ears pierced, much to Jer’s annoyance. 

“What do you say, Farrokh?” Jer prompted, and Freddie grit his teeth at her sugary-sweet tone. She still spoke to him like he was five.

Dazmen was looking at him expectantly, and Freddie knew what he wanted. He wanted Freddie to smile, to bat his eyelashes and thank him. He wanted Freddie to ask for Dazmen’s help in putting it on. He expected Freddie to apologise for his “attitude.” 

Dazmen’s perfect smile faltered when all Freddie said was, “It’s heavy.”

“I could help you put it on?” Dazmen asked, confirming Freddie’s suspicions. “I’m sure it’s not that heavy.”

“No, thank you,” Freddie said, turning away- but he caught Bomi’s eye. Bomi glared at him, looking close to snarling. He looked pointedly at the necklace, a warning gleam in his eyes, and Freddie knew he was in danger of being locked in his room all day.

“Fine,” Freddie muttered through clenched teeth. Dazmen’s smile brightened as he shifted Freddie’s hair aside to put the necklace on. Freddie was right, the damn thing was heavy; he was hyper-aware of it resting on his chest.

  
  
  


**June, London England, 1982…**

They knew damn well wedding planning could take months, if not a whole year. Freddie had easily agreed to a Catholic church; he wasn’t sure which Zoroastrian traditions he wanted to keep, he’d never been the most pious man around.

But Jer called him only a day after the announcement to cheerfully ask, “You’re inviting the family, right?”

Freddie didn’t understand. She knew she was invited. “You _ are _invited, Mama,” he reminded her. “So is Papa, so is Kash and her family.”

“No, baby, I mean your uncles; your aunts, your cousins!”

Oh. Well, shit. Freddie hesitated. Both sets of grandparents were dead by now, though he doubted that Bomi’s parents would show up, even if they were alive; they’d made their disapproval plain all those years ago, and he couldn’t say he’d cared in the end. As for the rest of the family…

He wasn’t really close with _ any _ of them. His cousin Namir was friendly; Freddie would be happy enough to invite him, and his aunt Niesha, but if he invited them that meant he had to invite his uncle Sepehr, and he’d rather chop his own arm off than have _ him _at his wedding. Or Uncle Amjad. Anahita and her wife were okay, if a little condescending. His mother’s sisters and brother were in the same boat: they spoke to him like he was stupid. In fact, his mother’s elder sister had written him one long, ranting letter back in the 70s, deploring his stage persona. 

The same went for his cousins. They were of the opinion that Freddie was fragile and needed coddling. In fact, a lot of them had written him off as a lost cause; once they realised he was no innocent virgin they declared he was an embarrassment. Apparently sluts don’t belong in the family. 

The only one he could stand to talk to was Namir.

“I...I don’t really want to invite them, Mama,” he admitted. 

“_ What? _ Freddie, they’re _ family! _”

“But I don’t get along with _ any _ of them!” Freddie protested. “You _ know _ that. They’ll just complain the whole time, they’ll tell me off, they’ll nag that I’m not doing anything right, they’ll interrogate Jim…” As he said it, he could see it clear as day. They may smile and congratulate him, but then they’d get _ passive-aggressive. _ Unless it was a Zoroastrian ceremony they wouldn’t be happy. No matter what he wore, no matter what colour scheme he and Jim chose, they’d complain. They’d imply, if not outright state, that he could have (and should have) done better. He could find the most beautiful place in England to get married and they’d find fault. Some of the more spiteful ones would surely tell Jim he needn’t _ saddle himself _with such a burden. 

Unless he left everything to Jim and his parents to decide, they’d complain, because “it’s not an Omega’s place to organise these things.” And then they’d start in on his career, his friends, his appearance, his attitude...If they complained about Jim or insulted him, Freddie would lose it.

His parents may have improved, but the rest of them _ hadn’t. _

“I don’t want them there,” he said firmly. “I might invite Namir, but that’s it.”

“Freddie, that’s incredibly rude!” He could hear the impatience creeping into Jer’s voice. “You can’t get married without your family there to celebrate with you!”

“My family _ will _be there,” Freddie said, thinking of Roger, Brian and Deacy; he thought of Mary, Miami, Phoebe and Joe. He thought of Kashmira, her husband and daughter. He thought of Jer and Bomi, he even thought of Jim’s family. 

“It’s your _ wedding, _” Jer persisted. “Just let me call them, darling, they’ll want to know. They’ll want to be here.”

“But _ I _ don’t want them!” Freddie snapped, out of patience. “You’re right, it’s _ my _wedding. I don’t want anyone that’s just going to upset me!”

“Freddie-”

“Can you _ please _ just listen to me? _ I don’t want them there. _”

“That’s completely unfair, darling.”

_ No, _ he thought. _ How they treat me is unfair. _But Jim was right- Freddie wasn’t seventeen anymore, so he said it too; “No, how they treat me is unfair.”

“They mean well,” Jer said, her voice softening.

“They mean well for themselves,” Freddie said flatly. “I’m not inviting them.” He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “I’ve to call Elton, Mama, I’ll ring you later.”

He hung up. He had to before he lost all patience and shouted at her.

He didn’t want to feel like the bad guy for this. As Roger had said time and time again, Freddie didn’t owe his family anything, just because they were related. They treated him awfully, they embarrassed and demeaned him at every turn, so why _ should _he invite them?

But Freddie also knew this wasn’t the last he’d hear of this. Jer would definitely keep bringing it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one thing Freddie won't budge on; he might invite his cousin Namir, but that's it.


	3. Honour To Us All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jer wants Freddie to have a traditional wedding. Freddie? Not so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Jer and Freddie continue to clash. Don't worry, once we move on to the actual shopping they'll talk it out more.

**August, 1982** **   
** ** _“A girl can bring her family great honour in one way: by striking a good match, and this could be that day. Men want girls with good taste, calm, obedient, who work fast-paced. With good breeding, and a tiny waist, you'll bring honour to us all_ ** **.” ** ** _-Honour To Us All, _ ** **Mulan**

Jer had been surprised when she was first introduced to Jim. He was tall and handsome, certainly, but...Well, he was so  _ quiet.  _ Perfectly polite, very sweet, but  _ such _ a quiet young man. If it wasn’t for his scent, she’d have assumed he was a Beta like her. His height and strength screamed  _ Alpha,  _ but his attitude certainly didn’t.

At first, she’d worried. Freddie had gone through quite a few boyfriends (she suspected she wasn’t told about them all), most of whom simply wanted his money. A part of Jer still hoped Freddie would find someone to support  _ him,  _ not the other way around. She wanted someone with an impressive career, someone confident and strong…Jim certainly had great physical strength, but he hadn’t seemed confident when they first met, and he’d shyly told her he was a hairdresser, which- okay, she could admit it hadn’t impressed her much.

She needn’t have worried. Jim clearly didn’t care about Freddie’s money, or even his public status come to that. Apparently, he hadn’t even known who her son was! It was a relief.

Here, finally, was someone who wholeheartedly loved her son, someone her son loved in return. 

She wanted Freddie to have the best of the best, but as he and Jim showed her, Bomi and Colleen Hutton around the church they’d found, she was still a little irritated. Freddie had refused to budge on inviting the family, and by now she and Bomi had received numerous, offended phone calls about the wedding. Sepehr had been incensed to find out that Jim hadn’t asked Bomi’s permission before proposing, though Bomi himself hadn’t cared.

“And, what, he intends to ignore us all, does he?” Sepehr had demanded.

Bomi had rolled his eyes and said, “As if you would have come anyway, Sepehr.” There was no love lost between the brothers, Jer knew. They’d never been close. Once she would have said it was because they were too similar, but in more recent years she wondered if perhaps they were too  _ different.  _

Certainly, Sepehr would have been furious that it was a Catholic church, a Catholic ceremony.

Bomi’s eyes narrowed. “Are you not keeping  _ any  _ Zoroastrian traditions?”

Freddie sighed, his arm linked with Jim’s. “Maybe, Papa,” he said tiredly. “I don’t really know what I want yet.”

“Well, it’s a beautiful church, boys,” Colleen said with an approving smile. She was a small woman, but taller than Jer; an Omega with only a few streaks of brown left in her hair. 

It  _ was  _ beautiful; a large, brightly painted building with marble statues and paintings of saints, stained glass in every window. There was a faint smell of incense in the air, and Jer’s eyes were drawn to the golden cross behind the red-carpeted altar. It was on a little hill, with beautiful gardens. Picturesque, really. Somehow, it seemed to encompass the taste of both Freddie, and Jim; it was in a quiet location, it wasn’t gaudy or over-decorated, but it was elegant. Everywhere you looked, there was something pretty. 

_ If it makes them happy that’s all that matters,  _ Jer told herself, but she couldn’t help but fret that Freddie was overlooking his own faith. Their family’s faith. It didn’t quite sit right.

“Any thoughts on a colour scheme yet?” Colleen asked, and Jim laughed.

“Fred’s the artist, I’ll leave that to him, Mam.”

“I think you’d look  _ wonderful  _ in pink, darling,” Freddie said with a mischievous grin.

“Don’t you even think about it,” Jim dead-panned, but he was smiling all the same.

  
  
  
  
  
  


As usual, Freddie came to visit on Thursday.

“Colleen had a point,” Jer ventured as she poured them tea. “Do you have any ideas for colour schemes, baby?”

Freddie shrugged. “Something bright,” he said. “Something bold. Eye-grabbing, you know what I mean, Mama?”

“Yellow?” she suggested; it was Freddie’s favourite colour after all. Freddie looked thoughtful.

“Maybe,” he said, sipping at his tea. “It’ll have to be something that suits Rog, Brian, Deacy and Elton, and Jim’s groomsmen.”

“Oh, you’ve already decided on them?” Jer asked, blinking in surprise. 

Freddie nodded.

“Well...I suppose that leaves your cousins out…”

“I’m not inviting them, Mama,” he said firmly. “I already called Namir; he and Auntie Niesha are invited, so long as they don’t bring Uncle Sepehr, or anyone else.”

“We’ve gotten quite a few angry phone calls,” Jer said.

Freddie didn’t exactly look sympathetic. “Yes,” he said. “So have I. That won’t make me change my mind.”

Jer wasn’t sure if there was  _ anything  _ that could ever change that boy’s mind.

She took a deep breath, and said, “So, colours. Something bold and bright, yes?” Freddie nodded again. “You could always go with red and gold, darling.”

Freddie’s eyes brightened. “Oh. Oh that could-” His smile faltered. “...You mean for me, don’t you?”

“Of course,” she said. “Darling, it’s tradition.”

“Mama, I don’t even know what I’m wearing yet,” Freddie said. “I don’t- I don’t think I want to go traditional.”

“Why not? Darling, you’d look  _ lovely. _ ”

“I’ve never felt comfortable in those things,” Freddie said. As if he could read her mind, he added, “And regardless if I go traditional or not, I am  _ not  _ wearing a veil.”

“Freddie-”

“I’ve never worn one before, I’m not starting now, Mama.”

That much was true. Bomi’s mother had given him a veil once; he’d never worn it. She’d tried to convince him to wear it multiple times, particularly when Dazmen was around, but he’d steadfastly refused. Short of forcing it onto his head, there hadn’t been much she could do. 

All the same, she persisted now.

“Okay, no veils. But I just think it would suit you so much better than some plain old suit. What are your options, really? Black or white with a coloured shirt? It just- it seems so  _ limited. _ ”

For a moment, it looked like he was considering it. But then he pressed his lips together and looked away.

“We’re not in Zanzibar or India anymore,” he said quietly. “I’ll wear what  _ I  _ choose.”

“Freddie-”

“Did you try to convince Kash to go traditional?” he asked.

She was quiet.

Freddie’s eyes dimmed. “Thought so,” he said quietly.

Jer quickly changed the subject.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**February, 1964…**

When Jer came home, carrying a large folder in her arms, Freddie only gave her a bland look.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“I borrowed it from Priya down the street,” Jer said cheerfully. She all but shoved it into his arms. “She saved it from when she was planning her daughter’s wedding.”

Instantly wary, Freddie opened it. Sure enough, the entire folder was filled with wedding ideas- pictures of venues, flowers, colour swatches, different robes and veils, decorations, little handwritten lists of food, pictures of jewellery and different patterned veils, even perfume choices.

“Handy isn’t it?” Jer asked, smiling.

Freddie closed it, and dropped it onto the table.

“Handy for you, maybe,” he said, standing. “Not for me.”

Jer sighed tiredly. “Darling, the wedding is set for September,” she said. He could hear the impatience creeping into her voice. “If you want any say in how this wedding goes, you’ll at least look through this.”

_ “If I want a-”  _ He was so angry he was almost choking on his own breath. Was she  _ serious?  _ Did she even hear herself? “I don’t  _ get  _ a say, according to you! You want to know how I want this to go?  _ I don’t want it to go at all! _ ”

“Now, darling, don’t be silly-”

  
“I’m not marrying him,” Freddie said fiercely. He turned on his heels and marched away, throwing one last glare over his shoulder. “Plan all you want, Mama, but you’ll  _ never  _ get me down that aisle!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Jer. She means well, but she often forgets Freddie's not a kid anymore.


	4. Here Comes A Thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to find the perfect outfit for your wedding can be difficult. Freddie makes a surprising decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finally gotten my hands on The Testaments (sequel to The Handmaid's Tale) and let me tell you, this thing is already blowing my mind, I love it.

**September and October, 1982** **  
** ** _“Take a moment, remind yourself to take a moment, and find yourself. Take a moment to ask yourself if this is how we fall apart? But it's not, but it's not, but it's not, but it's not, but it's not. It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay._ ****_You've got nothing, got nothing, got nothing, got nothing to fear. I'm here, I'm here, I'm here.” -Here Comes A Thought, _ ** **Steven Universe**

In the end, Freddie picked a lovely shade of lilac for the boys, and had found a darker purple, almost blackberry, for Jim to recommend to his groomsmen. Thankfully, they all liked the colours, they all looked good in them. Purple could be a surprisingly easy colour to work with.

Finding things for _ others _ to wear was simple enough; he’d been bothering his friends to at least _ try _the clothes he found for them for years now. But finding something for himself was starting to drive him crazy.

Nothing seemed _ right. _ Picking a suit of all things shouldn’t be hard, but it was. He couldn’t get this wrong, he just _ couldn’t, _ but nothing grabbed his attention and held it. They all suddenly seemed too _ dull. _ He could follow Jim’s suggestion, and wear a white suit, as was traditional of Omega men in Ireland. He’d tried some on, and it wasn’t that he looked bad in them (he thought he looked pretty damn _ good, _thank you very much), it was just...They were okay. They were fine. 

He liked them, but he didn’t love them. That was the problem.

As September wore on with the same results (that is to say, _ no _ results), and even Mary couldn’t help, he eventually called his mother, feeling stupidly worn out. Jim had already found three different outfits from three different stores that he’d just _ loved, _and Freddie was still floundering.

“Mama, I need help,” he said. He was curled up on the sofa, Delilah purring on his lap.

“What’s wrong?” Jer asked. “Sweetheart, you sound funny…”

So maybe he’d had a bit of an anxious breakdown earlier. Sue him.

“This is going to sound stupid,” Freddie said. “But I can’t find anything I want to wear. _ At all. _” He sighed and admitted, “I need help.”

“Oh!” Jer sounded surprised, and rightly so. “Well...I don’t really know anywhere for suits, but...But I know some traditional boutiques…”

“I’ll try anything,” Freddie said, holding Delilah closer. Maybe the bright colours and soft fabrics would at least give him some more ideas.

And, well, he had to hand it to Jer; she found a place so fancy you had to book an appointment. At the start of October, they went shopping.

  
  
  
  
  


Jer had to admit, it was _ odd _shopping with Alphas for a wedding. When she’d been shopping for her own wedding, the only Alpha in attendance had been her mother. Two of her friends had been Omegas, but her sisters, her cousin, and the other friend in attendance had all been Betas like herself.

Freddie’s “bridal party” if she could use that term, was a lot more mixed. There was Roger, of course; then there was Brian, John, Elton, Peter (she just couldn’t call him Phoebe), Mary, Joe, Kashmira, and even Veronica had tagged along.

“I have experience,” she said, crossing her arms. With a teasing smile, she added, “I’ll be better help than John.”

John pulled a face at her, but he didn’t contradict her.

The assistant helping them was a tall, gangly Beta woman named Aalia Patel. She had coiffed black hair and big dark green eyes, the type of flashy smile you saw on models in a magazine. She admittedly looked a little imposing, but she was very sweet when she greeted them, shaking their hands and instantly memorizing all their names. Jer appreciated it; the assistant when she’d been shopping kept mixing up everyone’s names, bar Jer’s and her mother’s.

“So, first things first- what colours do you have in mind?” Aalia asked Freddie.

Freddie was looking all around him with wide eyes. “Oh, well...The boys are all wearing lilac, and my husband’s groomsmen are wearing a darker purple.”

Aalia’s smile widened. “Good thing a lot of colours work with purple, hm?” She all but strutted down the aisles, looking through the racks. “You want something bright, I assume?” Her eyes sparkled. “I’ve seen you on stage.” She nodded to Roger, Brian and John. “All of you. Your costumes are always amazing.”

Just like that, Roger was preening, Brian smiled, and John stood taller. Freddie looked slightly taken-aback, though Jer would have assumed he’d be used to this sort of thing by now. But he smiled all the same.

  
  
  
  
  


In the end, Aalia found seven different outfit choices; she hadn’t seemed too surprised when Freddie firmly said, “No veils, darling.” But she did find some amazing clothes; blue, yellow, green, red, silver, and gold, all with different patterns, all in different styles.

The first one was a kurta in a lovely shade of sky-blue, quite pretty really: it had long billowing sleeves and little silver buttons, with white and silver embroidery, and loose white pants that bunched at the ankles.

It was _ pretty, _yet somehow, not quite right. Freddie didn’t seem comfortable in the high, tight collar.

“You look like you can’t breathe,” Brian said with a sympathetic smile. 

“You’re like a cat,” Jer dared to joke- and to her surprise and delight, Freddie laughed.

“Well, you’ve got that right, Mama,” he said, and hopped off the little dais to go try on the next outfit. 

Personally, Jer loved the green one with it’s long train and purple sash, but Freddie only shrugged uncertainly.

“I suppose it’s cute,” he said.

“If it’s only cute, it’s not the one,” Aalia said, so Freddie hopped off the dais again, giving a little twirl as he did, which made Peter and Roger chuckle.

It was the red one, the last one he tried on, that caused them all to gasp.

“Oh, I’m gonna cry,” Mary said, clapping her hands over her mouth. 

It was a ruby-red colour with a white silk under-shirt; if, indeed, they counted as shirts. It wasn’t quite a kurta, not with how long it was, brushing the floor like that, layered almost like a gown; the sleeves were short in the front and long in the back, nearly reaching the floor. It had quite a wide collar, so Freddie could move his head comfortably, the silken bottoms were gold, bunching tightly at the ankles, closed with tiny diamond buttons. But it was the embroidery on this one that caused Jer to beam; gold and white lining and swirling patterns, a larger diamond at the neckline, accompanied by yet more golden embroidery. Freddie seemed to shimmer as he moved; even the slightest tilt made the colours catch the light.

It was impossible to look away from him. Jer quite agreed with Mary; she felt like crying.

“Lovie, you look beautiful!” Peter gasped.

“You do,” Jer agreed; he looked even better when he grinned, turning this way and that to take in every detail in the mirror.

“I love it,” he said, and he sounded surprised with himself.

“No veils?” Jer asked wryly. Freddie laughed at her again, still grinning.

“No veils,” he said. He turned to Aalia. “But I will be taking this one, darling.”

  
  
  
  
  


Joe drove them towards her and Bomi’s house.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it, darling?” Jer asked. She and Freddie were in the back of the car; Peter was up front with Joe.

“I didn’t want to take it off,” Freddie admitted.

“That’s how you know it’s perfect,” Jer said, remembering her own sari. “I nearly cried when I found my sari; I felt...Well, I felt wonderful in it. I didn’t want to take it off again. I think I _ did _cry a little when I got home, actually.”

“Really?” Freddie tilted his head. “You never mentioned that before.”

Jer paused; surely she had told Freddie about hers and Bomi’s wedding? Well, yes, she had; but she hadn’t mentioned anything leading up to it. Certainly, she’d never told him about her shopping experiences, or her bridal shower. She’d never told him about hunting for the right venue, or how she’d agonised over decorations, and who she should pick as her bridesmaids. She’d told Kash during the preparations for her daughter’s wedding, but she’d only ever told Freddie about the ceremony, about Bomi slipping and falling into the pool (still fully dressed) on their honeymoon.

“Oh,” she said softly. “No, I suppose I didn’t.”

But that train of thought did lead her to something else: what did Omegas _ do _ these days at their showers? Did they even _ have _showers anymore, or did they throw big parties like Alphas did? 

“Freddie, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Mama?”

“What are you doing for your shower?” she asked.

For a moment, he looked confused, but then there was a flash of understanding. “Oh, you mean the stag do?”

“I don’t get why you lot call it that,” Joe sighed. “Bachelor party makes so much more sense.”

“Isn’t a party like that just for Alphas?” Jer asked.

“Not anymore, Jer,” Peter said, twisting around in his seat to smile at her. “These days, people pretty much just do what they want.”

In that case, knowing Freddie, he’d have some crazy night out; something utterly inappropriate for his family to attend.

So she rolled her eyes, and turned back to her son.

“Well, before you go and have some crazy party or other, maybe we could have a lunch or dinner? Just something nice and quiet, to give you presents.”

  
Now Freddie _ truly _looked surprised. Uncertain. But after a moment’s hesitation, he nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been mentioned before in other parts of the series that Freddie wore a traditional "red, white and gold" outfit to his wedding; now we finally get a proper description. In terms of design and shape, his outfit is partially based on Princess Jasmine's pink outfit in the live-action Aladdin. Say what you want about that movie, but the costumes were on point.


	5. I Want To Break Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As his forced engagement to Dazmen continues, seventeen-year-old Freddie makes an important (life-changing) decision...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we have a chapter dedicated entirely to a flashback; this one helps show just how much Jer and Freddie's relationship has changed since he was a teenager.

**February 20th, Stone Town, 1964** **  
** ** _“I want to break free. I want to break free. I want to break free from your lies, you're so self-satisfied, I don't need you. I've got to break free! God knows, God knows I want to break free.” -I Want To Break Free, _ ** **Queen**

“Dazmen’s taking you out to dinner, Farrokh,” Jer said brightly. 

Freddie was lounging on his bed, sketching, and in no mood to move, let alone to humour Dazmen. He looked at his mother, making sure to look as utterly bored as possible; judging from her disgruntled frown, he was succeeding.

“Is he?” he asked flatly. “Tell him thanks but no thanks.”

“Don’t take that tone,” Jer said impatiently. She marched over to his wardrobe and, ignoring his protests, began to look through all his clothes. “Please do something about your hair, darling, it’s all over tangles.” She pulled out one of his only kurtas; he’d only worn it once, to a family friend’s wedding. It was teal with white and yellow embroidery around the collar and cuffs, and long flowing sleeves that nearly covered his hands. “The veil your Baa gave you will look lovely with this. Where is it?”

“Not happening,” Freddie snapped. He tried to ignore her and continue drawing, but his hand was starting to shake.

“Oh, darling, be reasonable. You need to look respectable.”

“You never made me wear one before,” Freddie pointed out. He glared at her over the top of his sketchbook. “You’re just worried Dazmen will complain to Bapuji about me.”

“He’s your fiance,” Jer said. Freddie scoffed, but she continued regardless; “He’s a good man, Farrokh, you want to look your best for an Alpha like that.”

“Maybe _ you _ do. _ I _don’t.”

Jer took a deep breath, closing her eyes. She’d never hit him before, but Freddie suddenly found himself wondering if she would. Instead, after a pause, she opened her eyes again, striving for calm.

“Where’s the necklace he bought you? Or the bangles? You should wear them, show him you appreciate them.”

“But I _ don’t. _” The jewellery was all in his chest of drawers, in the top drawer. Other than that gigantic necklace, Dazmen had also bought him another (thankfully smaller) necklace, two rings, and a pair of matching bangles, gold encrusted with sapphires. “Besides, you won’t be able to see if I’m wearing any bracelets with those sleeves.”

“They were a thoughtful gift,” Jer said firmly. “You’re wearing them.”

Freddie sat, stony faced, as Jer began to hunt for the bangles. He hadn’t worn them yet, and he had no intention of changing that. Besides, the longer Jer stayed here the more time they wasted.

_ “Your birthstone, correct?” _

_ “Correct,” Freddie said, completely monotone. Dazmen reached for his hand, but Freddie pulled away quickly, ignoring his parents frowns. _

_ “I hope you like them,” Dazmen said, smiling again. Truth be told, he did have quite a dazzling smile. If he was just some Alpha that Freddie happened to pass on the street, he’d likely be pleased that someone so handsome had smiled at him; as it was, it was just _ irritating. _ Dazmen could smile all he wanted, it didn’t make up for his personality. _

Trust Jer to find the damn things; he should have hidden them with his veil. She pulled them out, setting them on top of his kurta, on the end of the bed.

“He paid good money for those,” she said, as if that would somehow win Freddie over. “He wanted to do something nice for you.”

“He wanted to buy me, Mama,” Freddie snapped. At that, Jer grabbed his arm and tugged him to his feet with a strength Freddie hadn’t known she had. She pointed at his door, as bristling with anger.

“Get in the bath.” She was as close to snarling as Freddie had ever seen her. “I’m sick of arguing with you. This is a good match, so many Omegas your age would kill for an engagement like this! You’re being handed a life of luxury on a silver platter, and you’re determined to throw it away! Do you even _ care _ about how much you’re embarrassing your papa and I? People _ talk, _Farrokh.”

“Let them,” Freddie snarled, tugging away from her. “I don’t _ care. _”

“Well we _ do. _” She suddenly looked exhausted. “This is for the best,” she said, more quietly. “You couldn’t ask for a better Alpha.”

“Maybe I don’t want an Alpha,” Freddie said, folding his arms. “What if I wanted to marry a Beta? Or an Omega?”

“That’s blasphemy,” Jer gasped. Even after everything Freddie had pulled over the years, (staying out until all hours, swearing, befriending Alphas, yelling at her and Bomi, sneaking out) she’d never looked so shocked before. “That’s a _ sin, _ and I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” She grabbed him again, pushing him to the door. “Now for pity’s sake, go wash up or I’ll fetch your father.”

Once, Freddie had assumed that Jer was on his side. He wasn’t really close with either parent, but he’d always gotten on with Jer just that little bit_ better _ than he did with Bomi. If he was upset, she was more likely to hear him out.

All this engagement did was show him how wrong that assumption was. 

_ You’re on your own, _a part of his mind whispered. It was certainly starting to feel that way.

  
  
  


Dazmen turned up at five, dressed to impress as always; his kurta made Freddie’s look cheap. His was a soft, shimmering silver with gold at the collar, and a gold sash and tight sleeves. His diamond ring caught Freddie’s eyes; it was big, and thick, catching the light.

_ If he hit me when he was wearing that it would hurt, _ Freddie thought. It didn’t do anything to improve his mood. He hated Dazmen, but he was also _ scared. _If he didn’t find a way out of this marriage, Dazmen would be in charge of him, completely and utterly. No questions asked. It made Freddie feel sick.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” Dazmen said. He held his hand out; Freddie didn’t take it until Jer nudged him impatiently. Dazmen kissed his knuckles before he could pull back, and offered Freddie his arm. “Shall we?”

_ Shall we not. _ But Freddie took his arm. He felt tired, and small. He felt as insubstantial as a ghost. No one seemed to care about how he felt; they couldn’t say they didn’t _ know, _ Freddie had bluntly stated how he felt about all this. But he was ignored, no matter what he said. No one _ cared. _

He’d always known that, in the eyes of the law, he wasn’t worth much. He’d always known that being an Omega meant that people looked at him, and saw something fragile. Something empty-headed and weak, something that couldn’t think for itself. A doll, to dress up and put on the shelf when it wasn’t needed. That, or a sinning whore. Something that had a predisposition to sin by its very nature. All depended on who you asked, really. 

Neither prospect cheered him up.

He wanted to be a singer. He wanted to be a singer more than anything, he wanted equal opportunities to Alphas and Betas; he wanted to _ leave, _ to go where he wanted, when he wanted, without a ridiculous curfew or escort. Why was the idea so laughable? He was as good as any Alpha, he _ knew _he was.

Hell, he knew how he sounded when he sang. He knew he was _ better. _

But Dazmen, Jer, Bomi, his extended family, his teacher, his whole _ town... _They didn’t see it that way.

He caught Jer’s eye, and she smiled at him as if nothing was wrong at all.

_ I don’t want to be here, _he thought- and that thought took hold, sticking in his mind on repeat.

_ I don’t want to be here. _

  
  
  


It was a beautiful restaurant, Freddie could admit that. It was one of the fanciest places in Stone Town; he kept glancing up at the chandeliers, trying to guess if they were decorated with real crystals or not.

There was, however, one major problem. It was the restaurant’s policy that Omegas knelt on the floor, instead of sitting with everyone else. Dazmen had gotten one of the best tables, near the centre of the room, and Freddie, face burning with humiliation, had to kneel on an embroidered cushion the waiter brought. It felt like everyone was staring, though logically, he knew they weren't. The waiter even brought out a low table for one, a sign of just how prestigious they were: he knew there were plenty of places in town that expected Omegas to balance their food on their laps. He tried to avoid those places.

Jer sat across from Dazmen. As was the custom, she accompanied them everywhere, as a chaperone. To keep things _ proper. _

_ There’s nothing _ proper _ about this, _ Freddie thought bitterly, as Dazmen ordered for him. It was _ rogan josh, _ which should have made Freddie’s mouth water, but he just felt _ sick. _He poked at the food, barely eating, looking around at the other Omegas in the room. Some of them looked perfectly happy, some of them looked worn out, and a few looked as embarrassed as Freddie felt. One girl kept squirming uncomfortably, and Freddie saw why: she was heavily pregnant. Her family didn’t even look at her, though her husband gave her a sharp pinch on the arm.

On reflex, Freddie’s hand went to his own flat stomach. Would that be him soon? Oh please God, don’t let that be him, don’t _ ever _let that be him.

For all that this was meant to be another attempt to woo Freddie, Dazmen spent quite a lot of time talking to Jer instead. They both seemed to have forgotten he was there. They spoke of India, they spoke of Dazmen’s parents, and wedding ideas, and neither of them even glanced at Freddie, not until the waiter asked if they’d like dessert.

Dazmen ordered for him again. Freddie didn’t touch it. If he tried to eat he’d be sick, he was sure of it. His stomach was churning, his chest felt tight and he just wanted to _ run, _ to get the hell _ away _from here. The bangles felt like handcuffs. He wasn’t sure he could breathe. It suddenly felt too stuffy in here.

“Don’t you like _ gulab jamun, _sweetheart?” Dazmen asked.

“No,” Freddie said. “Not really.”

“Oh? Pity, it’s my favourite.” And he turned back to Jer again, talking about venues and what his Omega cousin had worn to his wedding, God he even had _ honeymoon _destinations in mind, and Freddie was going to scream if this kept up.

Abruptly, he stood and fled to the bathroom. Jer would kill him for not excusing himself, she’d give him an earful for attracting so much attention, but all he cared about was getting away from her, from Dazmen, from all of _ this. _

He didn’t look like himself. He barely recognised the boy in the mirror, with his traditional clothing and frightened eyes. 

_ Get used to it, _ a voice inside said. _ That’s what you’ll look like from now on. _

_ No. Never. _

_ You’ll be shipped off to India to be Dazmen’s trophy husband, to be a good little Omega, and you’ll be dead sooner or later. _

_ No! _

_ You don’t get a say, _ the voice taunted, and Freddie was crying before he knew it, gasping for breath, struggling to think clearly past the sudden overwhelming panic. This wasn’t _ fair. _ Why _ didn’t _ he get a say? Why did everyone think they could just force this on him? Why didn’t it matter what he wanted? Why didn’t _ he _matter?

_ I have to get out of here, _he thought, squeezing his eyes shut. 

Wait…

_ I have to get out of here. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to marry him, I don’t want to have his children, I _ won’t _ do it. _

So...So why didn’t he get out of here?

He opened his eyes: his reflection looked ragged, too pale, watery-eyed and shivering. He looked a mess. He looked like the weak little plaything everyone expected him to be.

But he wasn’t. He never had been. He never _ would _be.

Part of him still argued that his parents meant well; they didn’t _ mean _to upset him. They just wanted what was best for him, they were trying to help. The part of him that was used to this argued that he was over-dramatic. He was being, as Jer put it, silly. He wasn’t thinking clearly.

A much larger, much louder part of him, screamed _ fuck that, FUCK THAT. _ He was thinking clearly alright. He knew what he was doing. His parents knew what they were doing, they just didn’t _ care. _

_ You’re on your own. _ Fine. _ Fine. _He could live with that, he could cope with that.

They might _ think _ this was for the best, but Freddie _ knew _what would be the best. He knew what he wanted.

He wanted to be a singer. He wanted to be treated equally. He wanted to be _ free. _

And come hell or high water, Freddie decided. He would be.

He was getting out of here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's how our boy Freddie began to make his plan to run away. Poor kid.  
Next up, we'll be back to the 80s and the plans for the Jimercury wedding. Not much of this story left to be honest!


	6. It's Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe there's some Zoroastrian traditions that Freddie wouldn't mind keeping after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey-ho, Jer and Freddie are back!

**January, 1983** **   
** ** _“Now it's time to build from the bottom of the pit, right to the top. Don't hold back. Packing my bags, and giving the Academy a rain check. I don't ever want to let you down, I don't ever want to leave this town, ‘cause after all this city never sleeps at night. It's time to begin, isn't it?” -It’s Time, _ ** **Imagine Dragons**

Almost every detail was decided on; they had the church, they had their outfits, they (mostly) had the guest list and they’d found two hotels for the party afterwards that they were struggling to choose between. They’d decided on purple, red and gold for the colour scheme, and they were still looking at centrepieces.

It hit Freddie at random moments that this was really  _ happening.  _ He was actually marrying Jim, they wanted to get married in July. How many years had he spent wishing for this, certain it would never happen?

Of course, the press were driving him batty, asking all sorts of nosy questions and badgering his friends relentlessly, trying to get the details, trying to see if there was any way to get near the church. Joke’s on them, Freddie had already hired security for the day; the damn tabloids wouldn’t be getting any pictures of his wedding if he could help it, thank you very much. 

And to his surprise...Well, Jer had lightened up a little. She’d stopped nagging about veils and modesty, but she still seemed miffed it was a Catholic ceremony. She’d always been more pious than Freddie, so he supposed he got it; it was important to her, it just...didn’t matter that much to him, if he was honest. He couldn’t think of any traditions he’d be truly disappointed to go without. 

But then Jer turned up to his house with a lamp and some silver coins, and- okay. He had to admit it was sweet of her.

“We can’t really do it the traditional way,” she said. “Seeing as you two already live together.” She gave him a pointed look at that; Freddie stuck his tongue out at her.

“What’s all this?” Phoebe asked, poking his head around the living room door.

_ “Divo,”  _ they both said. Phoebe continued to look at them blankly.

“Zoroastrian tradition,” Freddie explained, as Jer lit the lamp and set a silver coin on it. “Normally the women of the family go to the other person’s house, light a lamp and leave silver coins- only in this case, Jim and I already live together.”

“I lit one back home,” Jer said brightly. She smiled at Phoebe. “Traditionally, this is the occasion where a betrothed couple would exchange their wedding rings. But since they’re doing this Catholic ceremony, we’ll make do.” 

“Oh.” Phoebe smiled at her, coming over to inspect the lamp. “That sounds lovely.” He began to ramble off questions, apparently genuinely interested.

And Freddie was a little surprised; he’d stopped trying to explain his religion to anyone in England beyond the bare minimum within weeks of his arrival. Most people either didn’t care, or thought it sounded stupid. He’d heard enough racist comments to last him a lifetime. Besides, there was almost no one to talk to back then, and he’d hated being part of a religion that told him to stay in his place. He’d wanted to leave everything behind. He’d soon stopped thinking about it much himself.

Yet it was oddly comforting in its way. It was familiar.

Typical really, that Jim and Joe came home as she explained, both loaded down with groceries.

“Oh, hello, Jer,” Jim said. He glanced at the lamp and coins and raised an eyebrow. “What’s all this?”

As Jer happily explained, Jim listened closely. He let Phoebe take the shopping bags, and came to wrap an arm around Freddie’s waist.

“Are there any other traditions?” he asked.

“I’m hoping to convince Freddie to an  _ Ardani, _ ” Jer said. “It’s the third day before the wedding, that’s when all the formal gifts are exchanged. Normally the groom’s family comes to the bride’s house for it. Or in this case the other groom’s...” She pursed her lips, humming thoughtfully. “Goodness, I’m so used to saying bride, darling.”

Freddie rolled his eyes, because God knew most people in India would insist on calling him the bride and leaving it at that. At least Jer seemed to realise that annoyed him; she kept trying not to say it anymore.

“I’m sure my mam would be interested,” Jim said, and Freddie blinked at him in surprise.

“Really?” he asked.

“She’ll jump at the chance to spoil you,” Jim said, rolling his eyes with a fond smile. “I can give her your number, Jer?”

“Oh, that would be lovely!” Jer was nearly  _ glowing  _ in excitement. Freddie remembered that they’d done the same for Kashmira; they hadn’t stuck to all the rules, so Freddie had gone with her. Admittedly, it  _ had  _ been fun. If anything, it had been a chance to tease his sister and spoil her rotten.

Oh dear, Jim had so many siblings. And then there was Colleen. And doubtless some cousins would tag along.

Well, at least there’d be presents.

And he’d be keeping Jer and Bomi far  _ far  _ away from his actual stag night,  _ thank you.  _ Roger was organising it, so he knew full well that whatever happened would be enough to give his parents a heart-attack. 

“So when you said a quiet lunch with presents, you actually meant  _ Ardani? _ ” Freddie asked.

Jer shot him an innocent little smile. “Oh, maybe.”

“If you get me a veil, I’ll make it into a blanket for the cats,” Freddie warned. As if summoned, Delilah trotted in, and circled his ankles. He stooped to lift her, cradling her against his chest. He smiled on reflex when she began to purr.

“No veils,” Jer said. “I promise, baby.”

He looked at Jer’s hopeful smile, and Jim’s curious eyes. He huffed. He nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “Sure, Mama.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't find that much information on Zoroastrian weddings, but I'll keep digging. Next up we'll be getting a glimpse at Freddie's stag night, as arranged by Roger 😏😂 And possibly the Ardani Jer's arranging. All depends on how long the stag night portion ends up being.  
But at least Freddie's getting presents!


	7. Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Freddie's bachelor party; plenty of drinks and presents to be had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not totally happy with this one, but it's the best I could do 😂

**March, London, 1983**   
** _“And my fingers are bejeweled with diamonds and gold, but that ain't gonna help me now. I'm trouble, yeah, trouble now; I'm trouble y'all. I disturb my town. I'm trouble, yeah, trouble now; I'm trouble y'all. I got trouble in my town.” -Trouble, _ ** **Pink**

The front door to Garden Lodge burst open.

“Fred, we’re here to kidnap you!” Roger called, with Brian and Deacy behind him.

“Yes, I know, darling, I’m the one who buzzed you in,” Freddie said, laughing. Terry was driving them, because there was no way in hell anyone would be in a fit state to drive later. Freddie almost felt bad for Terry, because he knew how rowdy he and the boys could be when they were drunk, let alone  _ happy  _ drunk. Well, so long as no one damaged the car this time, it was fine.

“Have fun, love,” Jim said, bending down to kiss him. His bachelor party was next week; whatever had been planned there, Phoebe and Joe wouldn’t even hint to Freddie, worried he’d let details slip to Jim. Fair enough.

Freddie beamed up at Jim, squeezing his hand. “See you tomorrow, darling, love you!” he called over his shoulder.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was one of the best clubs in the city, and Roger had booked the  _ entire  _ VIP section. Elton, Phoebe, Crystal, Ratty and Joe were already there, Miami showed up just after them, as well as other singers and groups. 

Crystal already seemed pretty tipsy, doing shots with Peter Straker. Elton jumped up in such an excitement to greet them that he nearly landed flat on his face; Bernie only shook his head in amusement, raising his glass in a salute.

“Time to spoil you fucking rotten!” Elton laughed, clapping Freddie on the back.

Freddie grabbed Elton’s scarf, draping it over his own shoulders with dramatic flair.

“As I  _ deserve,  _ darling!”

Typical Elton, he’d arrived with six separate parcels, and the contents of each one had Freddie shrieking with laughter and slamming the box shut.

“Wait, no come on, what is it?” Deacy asked, snatching the third box.

“Deacy, no!”

Deacy took one look at the dildo that Elton had bought and shut the box again, pushing it back to Freddie, red in the face.

“Jesus, El,” Bernie laughed.

Miami chugged his beer and muttered, “Well, he won’t be needing that anymore.”

Roger screamed. Brian fell off his chair.

Freddie needed to be much drunker to forget that Miami had ever said that. He wanted to have no memory of that in the morning.

“Who wants vodka?” he asked, standing up. “I need vodka.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


A lot of the presents followed similar patterns; it was either something sexy for Freddie to wear in bed, or something for him to  _ do.  _ Poor Deacy groaned in horror, resting his head on the table.

“Stop,” he said. “All of you, that’s my brother, knock it off.”

He looked  _ ill,  _ poor thing, though he brightened considerably when Freddie hugged him, pressing his face against Freddie’s chest the way he used to do.

“You’re such a mum,” Crystal snorted. He poked at Deacy with his straw. “That’s your damn  _ mother,  _ Deacs.”

They both flipped him off.

Other presents were a bit more  _ normal.  _ Regular clothes, cologne, a new camera, things for the cats, tickets to the  _ ballet  _ courtesy of Brian. That last one had Freddie nearly crawling into Brian’s lap to thank him. He couldn’t quite walk in a straight line anymore, but who needed to do that, right?

Peter was clearly off his tits on god knew what. Though honestly, Freddie knew him well enough to guess it was cocaine. He looked all too happy when he gave Freddie a book on sex tips, even when Freddie hit him with it.

“Trying to imply something, darling?” Freddie asked primly, poised to hit him again.

“Not at all, love,” Peter said, rubbing his head. He grinned. “I’ve seen how far you can stretch your legs.”

Freddie hit him again.

One of the guys from  _ The Cross  _ had passed out on the purple velvet sofa, snoring away. Bernie drew a moustache on him; Roger drew a rather crooked rainbow on his forehead.

“Draw a dick on him,” Freddie said. They did.

  
  
  
  
  
  


He wasn’t surprised that the cake was shaped like a dick, he  _ really  _ wasn’t. He was surprised by just how  _ large  _ the cake was, but the shape didn’t surprise him at all.

“You’re welcome,” Joe said. By now he was so hammered he was swaying in his seat. “You wouldn’t believe how long it took to bake that.”

Phoebe was squinting at it. “Why does it look like my ex’s?” he asked, sipping at his champagne.

“And on that note, let’s dig in,” Freddie said, scrambling for the knife.

“Your ex must have had a  _ huge _ -” Roger started, only for Ratty to clap a hand over his mouth.

“I’m with Fred, let’s eat.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


And  _ that  _ was when Freddie’s memories started to get hazy. He vaguely remembered Roger twirling his shirt over his head, and Phoebe hugging Freddie all while crying over how “adorably small” he was. The rest was a blur of drinks, broken glasses, loud music and his friends tripping over each other. At one point he could have  _ sworn  _ Brian and Crystal were dancing together on a table. Peter was ranting about inventing a new colour, because apparently it was high time they got a new one. He couldn’t actually see Miami anywhere.

He didn’t know who called Terry to bring them home either. Nor did he know what time it was when they left, but the sun was starting to come up.

What he  _ did  _ know was that he woke up mid-afternoon the next day, in the Pink Room at Garden Lodge, squeezed into bed with the  _ Queen  _ boys.

For some reason he was wearing Roger’s shirt; Roger wasn’t wearing one at all. Brian was missing his pants, his shirt mostly unbuttoned. Deacy’s clothes were in a heap on the floor, though the Beta still had his underwear- and one sock- on.

His head was pounding, he felt sick as hell. Curiously, there were four glasses of water and a pack of painkillers on the bedside table, along with a little note. He leaned over Roger to try and read it.

_ Dear Sober-Me, you’re welcome. Love from Drunk-Me. _

That was his own handwriting. Evidently drunk-him was a genius.

He grabbed the nearest glass gratefully, gulping half of it down along with two painkillers. He immediately flopped back down, pressed in between Brian and Roger.

Slowly, the door opened and Jim poked his head in.

“Alright, honey?” he asked with an amused grin. He could dimly hear vomiting, and winced. Jim rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Joe’s not doing too great.”

“And Pheebs?”

“Still out of it.” Jim glanced at the pile of presents by the door, the rest of them scattered around the room and chuckled. “Good night?”

“Oh, wonderful, darling,” Freddie said. “But don’t look at anything Elton bought.”

Groaning, Roger cracked his eyes open. “Stop talking,” he pleaded. “Too much noise.”

Brian was still snoring, but Deacy clumsily slapped Roger with a pillow. “Shush,” he said, yawning.

“ _ Jim  _ was talking, not  _ me! _ ”

“I’ll put some coffee on, hm?” Jim was clearly biting back laughter.

“I love you,” Freddie told him seriously.

“You’re only marrying me for my coffee.”

“Not true; you also make amazing tea.”

Roger snickered. “Yeah, and from what we heard last night your dick is-”

This time, Deacy and Freddie  _ both  _ hit him. Jim’s laughter woke Brian up; the poor man nearly fell off the bed, blinking and looking around blearily.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” he mumbled.

“You do that, darling,” Freddie said as Jim left. He lay back down, pulling the covers up over his head. “Just try not to do it on the floor this time, yes?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried. Anyway, after this we have the Ardani that Jer's planning, maybe a flashback or two, and then I think we're moving onto the wedding itself! This was never intended to be a long full-on story, just some snippets.


	8. A Thousand Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jer, Freddie and Kashmira get some henna done. Jer's plans for an Ardani go better than she expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some family bonding.

**July 11th, 1983** **   
** ** _“But watching you stand alone, all of my doubt suddenly goes away, somehow. One step closer. I have died every day, waiting for you. Darling, don't be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years. I'll love you for a thousand more.” -A Thousand Years, _ ** **Christina Perri**

The last thing Jer expected was for Freddie to invite her and Kashmira to get their henna done with him. Kashmira, maybe, but her? She was surprised. Surprised, and delighted, because once she knew he wouldn’t have asked her. Truthfully, she was surprised Freddie was getting any henna himself, but even that made her smile.

But it proved to be fun. She sat on Freddie’s right side, Kashmira was on his left, and she was surprised by how easily the conversation flowed.

“What brought this on, darling?” Jer dared to ask. Freddie shrugged, smiling.

“There’s some traditions I like,” he said.

“So long as you get to show off,” Kashmira teased. Freddie laughed at her, but he didn’t deny it.

“I got henna done on my feet as well,” Jer said. “So did my sisters and my mother; my bridesmaids just got it done on their hands, but it still took ages to finish. We couldn’t all get appointments on the same day, and goodness that made me panic. I was so certain we’d just have to try and do it ourselves.”

“Really?” Freddie asked, tilting his head like a curious bird.

“Really,” Jer said. She looked pointedly at Kashmira. “Of course, your sister didn’t bother with this at all.”

“Too much fuss,” Kash said with a shrug. “Besides, I wore a Western dress; it wouldn’t have worked with the theme.” She examined the henna so far with a smile, and added; “Is anyone else still getting angry phone calls from India?”

“Yes,” Freddie said, rolling his eyes. “I’ve just started hanging up on them straight away.” There was that familiar mischievous gleam in his eyes. “After I scream, of course.”

_ “Freddie!” _ Despite herself, Jer smiled. She could only imagine how shocked Sepehr and the rest would be by that. “Darling, you shouldn’t do that.”

“Well they shouldn’t be pigs,” Freddie said. The girl doing his henna giggled, and he winked at her, before turning back to Jer. “I could do a lot worse than scream. I could start swearing at them, Mama.”

“Please do,” Kashmira said, at the same time Jer said “Please don’t.”

Freddie only smirked. “No promises.”

Eventually, they were all finished. They’d all gone for various floral patterns; Jer’s crept up past her wrists, twisting with vines, leaves, and different flowers big and small. Freddie’s was simpler; one large (albeit intricate) flower on the back of his hands, smaller ones on his fingers with a few swirls, and the same patterns circling his wrists. Kashmira’s arched across his hands from the corner of her wrist in big, bold strokes; each finger was entirely covered.

“Are you going to be all decked out in jewels too?” Kashmira asked with a teasing smile as they thanked the girls and left.

Freddie only shrugged. “No,” he said. “I don’t think so, darling. Maybe a bracelet or two, but that’s about it.”

“No veil?” Jer said. By now it was a running joke, one more change she delighted in.

“No veil,” Freddie said. “I’ll make it into a blanket for the cats, Mama, I mean it.”

“Well, you do spoil them,” Kash said. “Delilah would love it.”

“She wouldn’t share it, the greedy thing.”

As her children joked back and forth while they waited for the car, Jer couldn’t help but smile. It was such a change, so different from what she was used to. She wouldn’t have expected Freddie to include her. She had to admit that, once, she wouldn’t have included him either; she’d have left him at home, she had to admit that. How many times had she taken Kashmira on outings back in Stone Town, and left Freddie at home? By contrast, how many times had she forced Freddie into activities he didn’t want to participate in? How many times had Freddie, in the following years, not included Jer, or gone to her for help or even simply for some company?

She hoped this would keep up after the wedding. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**July 15th, 1983...**

Another thing that came as a delightful surprise, was just how excited Colleen Hutton was to participate in the Ardani tradition. She’d asked Jer a million and one questions, checking again and again that her present was okay. Not every one of Jim’s siblings could make it on the fifteenth; some of them would arrive the day after, or on the seventeenth, just before the wedding.

Still, it was a pretty big group. Saoirse, Millie, Roisin, Aishling, Ciara, Andrew and Patrick could all make it, as well as Colleen herself. With Jim’s siblings were their spouses and children. Jer knew Freddie was shy, but it was only Jim’s family, so surely it wouldn’t matter too much- after all, he  _ knew  _ them.

Still, he seemed almost embarrassed by all the attention. Jim sat with him, ignoring tradition; every time Freddie opened a present, he pressed closer to Jim, so maybe it was a good thing he’d stayed.

“Here you go, lovie,” Colleen said, handing over her gift. It was a nightwear set; pyjamas, slippers, a dressing gown, all in a lovely midnight blue shade. Freddie seemed genuinely delighted, and Jer could see a faint flush to his cheeks as Jim squeezed his hands.

“I just feel like we’re leaving you out, darling,” she heard Freddie whisper to him.

“Trust me,” Jim replied. “My stag night was enough of a fuss.” Come to think of it, neither of them would tell her how their stag nights went.

Jer felt awfully nervous as Freddie opened her present. She wasn’t sure he’d like it...But his eyes lit up, and he smiled without hiding his teeth.

“Oh, that’s lovely!” Saoirse said.

It was a diamond armband; quite thin, to match his engagement ring, and his wedding clothes. 

“It’s beautiful, Mama,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Well, you need a little sparkle, yes?” It was such a relief to see him smiling like that. 

As was tradition, every gift followed similar patterns; clothes and jewellery. New shirts, some ties (though Jim laughed that Freddie could even tie a tie by himself), new shoes, a new watch, some gold bangles for the wedding...And although Freddie still seemed a little embarrassed by the attention, he was beaming. Jer would consider that a success.

Joe was a saint, and cooked the traditional meal of sev and dahi, boiled eggs and bananas; he also, smirking at Jim, presented them with all different kinds of potatoes and honey-glazed ham. He’d even found the time to bake a cake.

“Are you having fun?” Jer asked Freddie as they sat down to eat. Her worst fear was that he hated it, or was bored.

But he squeezed her hand. “I am,” he said. “Thank you, Mama.”

“Well, thank you for letting me organise this,” she said, and she meant it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this we just have the wedding itself to worry about; we're nearly done! 💕


	9. Photograph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In 1964, Jer mourns the loss of her son. In 1983, she attends his wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, the last of the wedding snippets. Jer has grown, look at her go. Is she perfect? No. But she's so much better.

**27th March, Stone Town Zanzibar, 1964**   
**_“We keep this love in a photograph, we made these memories for ourselves; where our eyes are never closing, hearts are never broken, and time's forever frozen still. So you can keep me inside the pocket of your ripped jeans, holding me closer 'til our eyes meet, you won't ever be alone. Wait for me to come home.” -Photograph,_ Ed Sheeran**

Jer lay on her son’s bed, weeping. She clutched one of his shirts to her chest, and cried until her voice gave way. He was gone. Her boy, her little Farrokh, her baby, he was _gone._

He’d run away. He ran in the middle of the night, leaving only a note behind; one for her and Bomi, one for Kashmira. That was weeks ago. He’d sent one more letter, which Bomi’s father had destroyed in a fit of rage, before anyone could read it. Bomi had kicked his parents out on the spot, and Kashmira had raged ever since.

_“This is all your fault!”_ Kashmira screamed at Jer, at Bomi. “You _knew_ he hated Dazmen! You know what India’s like! Why couldn’t you just leave him _alone?_”

Other than that, their daughter didn’t talk to them. Neither of them had the heart nor energy to lecture her about respect.

Maybe she didn’t deserve her daughter’s respect. After all, she’d already lost her son.

_It was for the best,_ she thought weakly, trying to convince herself. Dazmen was rich, handsome, young, strong...The perfect Alpha. But not perfect for Farrokh.

Oh God, her little boy was out there all alone in the world; God only knew where he’d gone. He could be anywhere. He was an Omega all alone, someone would _hurt_ him. He couldn’t handle himself alone, not Farrokh! Not her baby, her little Omega, her little treasure; Farrokh, with his big heart and sweet ways. He’d be hurt, he could be killed. 

The thoughts only sent her into a panic. She couldn’t stop crying.

_“This is all your fault!”_ Kash had screamed. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was. Farrokh had been as blunt and honest as always, telling them again and again that he didn’t want to marry Dazmen. That he _wouldn’t_ marry Dazmen. He’d said so, so why was she so surprised? Well, she hadn’t thought he meant it. She’d thought it was just Omega modesty, that he was shy or anxious. 

But he’d told the truth, and he’d left. There’d been no more letters since his last one.

_Where are you?_ Jer thought. _Where did you go?_

The shirt she was clutching still smelled like Farrokh’s favourite cologne, and she clutched it tighter, refusing to let it go.

_I’ll do better,_ she thought, not for the first time. _Just come home, and I promise I’ll do better this time._

But of course, there was no answer. Her son didn’t magically reappear. Farrokh was gone, Kashmira hated her, and she’d never seen Bomi at such a loss. And she couldn’t fix it. She couldn’t fix it at all. All she could do was clutch Farrokh’s shirt to her chest and mourn.

(It was one of the things she insisted on bringing to England with her; that shirt and two more, that half-empty bottle of cologne, a thin gold necklace, one of his jackets, two of his sketchbooks, and every photo she had of him, refusing to lose any further reminders of him.)

**July 18th, London England, 1983…**

“Oh, sweetheart, look at you!” Jer gasped; she felt like crying, her hands pressed to her mouth, as her son made his way down the stairs with his friends behind him.

“Pretty!” Natalie cried, clinging to Kashmira’s hand.

“Thank you, darling,” Freddie laughed. If you asked Jer, Natalie was right. Decked out in his wedding attire and jewels (his ring, armband and a matching diamond _matha patti_), it was impossible to look away from him.

“You look lovely, son,” Bomi said approvingly. He nodded to the groomsmen, all of whom looked very smart in their suits and lilac shirts, with matching diamond brooches. He offered Freddie his arm; their son took it with a smile. Roger fetched the rose bouquet, and they were on their way.

It was typical of Freddie to hire the best limo available. They all had plenty of room to stretch out, and Jer just couldn’t take her eyes off her son. He chatted and laughed, glowing with happiness. Jer was certain she’d never seen him so happy before. He kept glancing out the window impatiently, twisting his engagement ring around his finger, tracing his bond mark anxiously.

“It’ll be okay, baby,” she surprised herself by saying. She took his hand, squeezing tightly. “It’ll be perfect.”

“I hope so,” he said.

“I know so. Jim adores you, you know that.” That earned her a smile; the mere mention of Jim’s name had him looking utterly smitten.

“Jim _worships_ him,” Roger put in with a laugh, which was true enough. Jer had seen it herself.

The journey seemed to go by in a flash, at least to Jer. Before she knew it, they were pulling up in front of the church. Yes, there were members of the press lingering by the end of the road, running after the limo and snapping pictures, but they were kept well away from the church grounds.

“Not this time, you fuckers,” she heard Freddie mutter.

“Language, child,” Bomi said tiredly.

“It’s English, Papa. I can say it in Gujarati if you’d prefer?”

Kashmira snickered, Roger outright laughed, and Freddie smiled angelically. Brian looked out the window with a smile, John was doing a good job of pretending he hadn’t heard, whereas Elton winked at Freddie.

Before Bomi could say anything, the chauffeur opened the door for them. One by one, they climbed out. Roger offered Freddie a hand out.

Well. Here they were. Time for the wedding to start.

There was one more tradition that Freddie had brushed aside; at the last minute, he asked them _both_ to give him away. The day he’d asked, Jer had kept it together until he left: then she cried. 

Once, for such a long time, she was sure her son was gone for good. Even after they’d found him, there was a distance there, a tension she couldn’t overcome. But now she felt like she had him back.

The wedding party went on ahead, Freddie’s groomsmen with Jim’s, and Freddie, Jer and Bomi waited for their cue.

Freddie kept rocking on his heels, nearly vibrating with anticipation now. His eyes were bright, his cheeks a little pink, smiling away.

And then the music began.

“Ready, baby?” Jer asked, offering her arm. Freddie linked arms with them both, keeping a tight grip on his bouquet. 

“Don’t let go of me,” Freddie said as they approached the double doors. “I feel like I might fall down.”

“Never,” Jer said. 

“If you do, I’ll carry you,” Bomi said, and Freddie turned to him with a delighted grin.

“Was that a _joke,_ Papa?”

“Oh, hush, child. Let’s get you married.”

“I’m Jim’s problem now,” Freddie quipped as the doors opened.

“You’re mine first,” Jer said softly, softly enough that Freddie could ignore it if he chose. Instead, he smiled at her, and they began to walk down the aisle.

The look on Jim’s face when he saw Freddie...That was what Jer wanted for her son. That overwhelming love, that delight, that awe and joy. And Freddie looked at Jim the same way; neither of them could seem to stop smiling.

They reached the altar, and for a moment, Jer didn’t want to let go. But it was Jim. He’d look after her boy, come hell or high water.

Trying not to cry, she stepped back.

“Love you, Mama,” Freddie whispered, and that did her in. The tears escaped, and she quickly squeezed his hand again, before following Bomi to their seats. She wiped at her eyes, determined to pull herself together.

It was her child’s wedding. She wouldn’t miss a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Freddie are so damn in love; Jer's gonna cry for most of the day.
> 
> Thanks for reading, guys! 💖

**Author's Note:**

> Let the family drama commence.


End file.
